


Until the end of his days

by whateverduuuuude



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Grief/Mourning, Growing Old, M/M, Memories, Old Age, Pain, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 13:58:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17387636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whateverduuuuude/pseuds/whateverduuuuude
Summary: Don't want to spoil it tbh. I'm really proud of this work, please comment if you like  it! :)





	Until the end of his days

"Merlin," Arthur croaked, rocking in his chair. Merlin slowly tottered through from the other room, looking at Arthur.   
"Yes my love?"  
"Can you please-" Arthur coughed. "A cup of water?" Arthur nodded weakly, almost too sick to raise his own head. Merlin sighed. Arthur was old now, well, they both were, but Arthur grew weary with age, his body fragile.

"Do you remember our wedding day?" Arthur's voice was hoarse, speaking at a low whisper.   
"Like it were yesterday," Merlin replied, as he always did. He reached for the painting that lay on the table. Arthur lifted his hand and stopped Merlin. Merlin looked at him, at the deep lines of his wrinkles, his once blonde hair turned white with time.   
"Such a beautiful day. And a beautiful groom," Arthur began, as if wistful, remembering. Merlin smiled, touching Arthurs cheek. "You wore that white shirt. I remember."  
"You said it wouldn't suit me," Merlin recalled, smiling weakly.   
"And how wrong I was." Merlin lifted Arthur's drink, holding it to Arthur's lips and tilting it slightly. Arthur's hands shook too much for that these days. 

Arthur was resting, his eyes shut. Merlin stared at him from his own chair. He remembered how this man had fought, how he had swung a sword, battled monsters. And he remembered falling in love with him. Merlin closed his eyes, picturing Arthur in the sun, on horseback in the woods outside Camelot. But Camelot was long ago. The Camelot that had been. The castle, with its gleaming white towers, his own small bedroom, and Gaius. Merlin blinked. It hadn't been like that in years.

"I made food." Merlin handed Arthur the plate, which had a few potatoes, and a slither of beef. "It's not much. I need to go into town."  
"It's fine Merlin. It's more than enough."

"Time for bed Arthur." Arthur shook his head.   
"No. I'm not strong enough." Arthur had, rather admirably, swallowed his pride, allowing Merlin to help him as he grew worse. "Just fetch me a blanket. Please." Merlin nodded, standing up slowly, steadying himself on the back of Arthur's chair. 

Merlin opened the wardrobe, looking inside. He picked out two moth eaten blankets, riddled with holes, and fraying around the edges. There was still a hint of the perfect, elegant embroidery that they had displayed in Camelot's golden years, but it was faded and falling apart. His hands swept across Arthur's cape: long, red, soft. Merlin tried to remember when Arthur had last worn it, but couldn't. He sighed again, pulling the blankets to his chest and closing the door. 

Merlin spread the blanket over Arthur as best he could, huffing a little. He sat down in his own chair, panting. Arthur opened his eyes. "Are you alright Merlin?"  
"I'm fine. A little breathless, that's all." Arthur nodded once, his neck stiff. Merlin held out his hand for Arthur to take, which he did. Their hands were both wrinkled, Merlin's no longer elegant; Arthur's no longer strong. 

"Goodbye Arthur." Merlin took a few deep breaths before Arthur realised what he had said.   
"You mean goodbye?" Merlin nodded.  
"Yes, that's what I meant.  Goodnight."  
"Goodnight." 

Arthur couldn't sleep- part of the blanket was itching him on a part of his neck he couldn't reach. He considered waking Merlin, but that wouldn't be fair. Merlin needed sleep just as much as he did. 

Arthur remembered a little of old Camelot. He remembered Guinevere, his first love, with her long, curly hair, dark skin. He remembered the round table, which wad probably rotting away in the great hall beneath them. He remembered, although insignificant, the smell of mud and sweat on the training ground. Merlin often spoke of a man named Gwaine, but Arthur could remember no such man. Upon prompting, he had remembered that Sir Gwaine was a knight,  but couldn't remember his cunning, his bravery or his wit in the same way that Merlin could. Or, as it were, at all. 

He remembered what happened to Camelot. After the battle at Camlan, they had returned to Camelot. For years, it flourished, beautiful, rich, perfect. And then the drought came. And the famine. Camelot, although still peopled, fell into disrepair and corruption. The kingdom had fallen, the castle barely standing, at the crown of it all. 

Arthur got to sleep eventually, leaning on his neck until it went numb and the blanket no longer bothered him. 

Arthur woke up the next day, looking around for Merlin. He was still asleep in his chair, so Arthur decided not to wake him. Arthur just sat, for a time, Merlin silent beside him. The sun was up, Arthur could tell from the edges of the curtains. You came to notice these things, sat in the same chair day after day, year after year. Merlin was usually up by now. Arthur lifted his hand carefully, nudging Arthur with a finger. "Merlin," he spoke, as loudly as he could. Arthur's breathing quickened.

 Merlin opened his eyes, meet Arthur's for just a moment.   
"I've been in this world far too long my love," Merlin groaned, reaching for Arthur's hands. "We both have."  
"Merlin?" Arthur's voice was panicked, eyebrows raised in concern. "Merlin?"  
"Goodbye, Arthur. I hope to see you soon." Merlin smiled weakly, sinking back into his chair, eyes closing.  
"No, Merlin. Don't you dare. Don't you-" Arthur choked. "Merlin?"

Arthur held Merlin's hand for a long time, until it was cold. He stroked Merlin's hair, tears in his eyes. "I was wrong," he whimpered, out loud to himself. "One man deserved my tears." Then the tears came, Arthur clawing at his own chest, begging for it not to be true. "Please Merlin. Please." 

He looked at Merlin through tear glossed eyes, seeing him once again as the sharp witted, smart young man he had met all those years ago. His dark hair, thin pale face like the first time they met. And it was so many years ago. Arthur cried again, until the tears stopped. 

Like his former self, his younger, stronger, more muscular self, Arthur stood up, scooping Merlin into his arms. he carried Merlin over to the bed, with its crumbling drapes, the mattress barely holding together. He placed him down carefully, eyes still wet. He walked over to the wardrobe, taking out his cape. He levered Merlin's body up enough to clip the cape around him. Arthur took his sword out of its place under the bed, placing it on Merlin's chest. He kissed Merlin's forehead again, and curled up on the bed beside him. "Goodbye Merlin. Until I see you again."


End file.
